He walks with his head down...aware of his surroundings but oblivious to them. Weaving in and out of transparancy, his coat-tails just touching the cement, as his steady footsteps create the illusion of alignment. The rain falls, obscuring vision, he is himself an obscurity- a vision of Fey Gentry. What you see out of the corner of your eye is real- the things in your direct line of vision oft change subtly to conform to normality. He is the Chosen One - the bearer of great tragedy and great joy. Walking alone, his finality to seek, his comfort the silence of those on the path with him.

Copyright2004CostumeForAGutterball

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